Last year around Thanksgiving I found myself wallowing in some sort of self-pity bath rolling about so I made sure I covered myself completly in this funk of self-absorbed negativity. I thought the feeling was stemming from my sad exhistence in Daytona Beach once Rich had left... the pathetic feeling of spending Thanksgiving with a married couple at dinner then Harry Potter (which reminds me... itsn't it time for a new HP movie?). So I ran. I ran away from Dirtona. I ran away from the beach, the biker bars, the race track, the people I had met... I ran.
I realize as I sit here tonight that my problem wasn't Daytona... just like it wasn't San Marcos... or Lampasas... or Oklahoma City... or Orlando... or Stillwater... or now Frisco... my problem is holidays.
I don't remember having bad holiday experiences as a child... Just like I don't remember what made me so stressed out at 13 that I had ulcers.
We all put on a mask. Everyday we get up and decide which mask we are going to put on to avoid letting people see the mess that we truely are underneathe it all. Tonight, I tried to take off my mask, and there was another one placed softly beneath it... and another beyond that. Have I really run so many times from so many places and so many people that I can't find who I was before I started running? Has it really been so long that I can't even place when I put on the first mask?